Sometimes They Come Back
by shadowarwen
Summary: Part of my SIB universe. Just when Harry thought everything was finally going right in his life, his worst nightmare comes back to haunt him…literally.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: Just when Harry thought everything was finally going right in his life, his worst nightmare comes back to haunt him…literally. **

* * *

_A/N: This story takes place in my Somewhere I Belong universe. This should make sense by itself, but it'd help a heck of a lot if you read the other stories first. I always said I'd write a fourth story in this Universe, and even though it's not titled SIB4, this is it. It's been a super long wait, so I hope you all like it. _

* * *

If he had to guess, Harry figured everything went to hell right around his nineteenth birthday. Before that, life had been pretty awesome, for lack of a more sophisticated word. Well, barring the whole debacle in his seventh year of Hogwarts with Cho Chang. He still hated her a little bit. But, back to his guessing, yeah, right when he thought everything was getting normal for his family **she** showed up out of the blue. His Uncle's sister. Aunt Marge.

She'd never been nice to him. That shouldn't have been surprising, considering who she was related to. And it wasn't. The last time he'd seen her, he'd accidentally blown her up. Luckily, she didn't remember that, or this little family reunion could have gone a lot worse.

He was living on his own now. Well, if having your best friend and your older adoptive brother as flat-mates was considered living on his own, then yeah, he did. He'd bought a flat just outside of Muggle London. As much as he liked magic, he still kind of missed things like television and blenders. Blenders were cool. In any case, he'd somehow ended up with two flat-mates, not that he minded, even though he thought they were probably just there to make sure he was safe. No one had liked the idea of him living alone. As it turns out, neither was home when Aunt Marge dropped by for a visit.

Harry had been fixing himself a cup of tea and slathering jam on his toast when the doorbell had rung. He was still in his pajamas, a baggy pair of gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt. Not actually caring that he wasn't dressed, Harry went to open the door. And boy was he surprised by who was on the other side.

"Aunt Marge?" he was pretty sure his mouth was hanging down by his knees. He stood there gaping at her for a good long moment.

She scoffed at him. "Where are your manners, boy?" she shoved passed him as if she had the right to come into his home. "You're supposed to invite lady callers in!"

It was Harry's turn to scoff. Whatever she was, it definitely wasn't a lady.

Forgoing his 'manners' completely, he quickly got in front of her and tried to keep her from going any further than the entrance hallway. "What are you doing here?" he asked, holding out his arm and leaning against the wall.

She looked at his arm as if she might just snap it off. "I thought you might like to know. Your Uncle Vernon is dead. He hung himself with his bedclothes in his jail cell."

Harry felt his jaw drop again. That was the last thing he expected to hear. He didn't have a chance to react before she shoved her way through his arm and further into the flat. He followed her numbly into the living room.

"I thought you'd like to know, considering you're what drove him to it."

Two years of highly expensive therapy and that didn't even faze him. "Good riddance, then." He said hotly. "Now get out of my house!"

He wasn't expecting her to haul off and slap him across the face. She was a big woman and the impact left him reeling.

"You should be thankful he took you in at all! And out of the goodness of his heart!" she yelled, advancing on Harry until he was backed against the wall.

He stood there in a bit of shock. "Thankful?" he gasped, holding his cheek as it stung. "You expect me to be thankful?" he yelled. "He abused me in every way possible. Why would I possibly be thankful he took me in?"

She took a step back.

"I'd have been better off if he left me on the street."

"And well he should have! You were the death of them all!"

Surprisingly, that actually hurt. Not about his Uncle, but his Aunt and cousin. That still bothered him sometimes. It was true; if he hadn't been around they would still be alive. Voldemort never would have gone after them. His Uncle, on the other hand, deserved everything he had got. Death was too good for him. Harry wished he had suffered more. It might be wrong of him to wish that, but he was still angry. All the therapy in the world wouldn't make him ever forgive what his Uncle had done to him.

"Look, if you're just here to taunt me with your brother's death, you obviously can see I don't give a damn!" he stomped over to the front door and yanked it open. "So get out!"

Her face turned an ugly shade of red. "You ungrateful little brat," she breathed. She stood her ground and glared at him.

Harry was beginning to worry she would never leave.

"I'm sorry you're mourning, but I'll never be sorry he's dead. You don't know half of what he did to me. And, I doubt you'd care. So, please, just leave. I don't want you here," implored Harry.

She leaned over and touched the back of the couch, as if she was steadying herself. Harry thought he saw a flash of silver in her hand but his attention was drawn back to Aunt Marge as she spoke once more.

"He didn't deserve all the grief you caused him," she said lowly, finally walking towards him and the open door. She pushed him up against it as she passed him. "I hope his death haunts you."

Harry rolled his eyes. If she hadn't figured out yet that he absolutely _did not care_ Vernon was dead, then he wasn't going to keep trying to get it through her thick skull.

He watched as she made her slow way down the sidewalk and didn't stop watching until she was long out of sight. After that, he closed the door and leaned his forehead against the hard wood. If that wasn't the oddest experience he'd had in a while, he didn't know what was.

* * *

Harry took some floo powder from the iron container on the mantel and threw it in the fireplace. "Snape Manor!" he called. Engulfed by the green flames, Harry disappeared from his flat and stepped out into the library of his father's home.

The library was empty, so Harry headed for the laboratory. The halls were void of any noise and Harry was beginning to wonder if his dad was home at all. It took some getting used to, the constant silence when he visited his father.

Opening the heavy wooden door to his father's laboratory proved difficult. He always had to put his back into it. "Dad, you have got to do something about this stupid door," he mumbled in frustration.

"Just because you have no upper body strength, doesn't mean the rest of us don't," said a deep voice from behind him. Harry spun and would have fallen backward had his father not reached out and took his arm.

"Don't do that, Dad!" he said in exasperation. "You're going to give me a heart attack one of these days and then how will you feel?"

Severus rolled his eyes as he pulled Harry forward, a frown forming on his face. "Why is your cheek so red?"

Harry grimaced. His dad wasn't going to be pleased. At all. "So, I had a visitor this morning," he began, fidgeting.

"And who was this visitor?" Severus still had his arm in his grip and Harry started tapping his fingers against his dad's in a nervous fashion.

"Don't get mad." Severus raised his eyebrows. "Well, you can get mad if you really want to. But, I took care of it."

Snape glared. "Took care of what?" he asked, eyeing the red mark on his cheek with growing anger. "Did someone hit you?"

"Yeah," he muttered, still tapping his fingers against his dad's. "My Aunt Marge, you know Uncle Vernon's sister?" His dad looked livid. "You're getting mad," he pointed out.

"With good reason! What is wrong with that family?" he asked heatedly, steering Harry with the hand on his arm. Snape opened the heavy door, with ease Harry noted, and took them both into the dark depths of his laboratory.

"You really need some windows or light or something down here," mentioned Harry as he was pointed to a chair.

"Sit."

Harry sat.

He watched as his father opened a cabinet above their heads and took out a clear vial that contained bruise healing balm.

"I don't think it's bruised," said Harry.

Severus nodded. "Not yet, but it will be."

"Oh, okay." Harry figured his dad knew more about it than he did. If he said it was going to bruise, it was going to. The woman had smacked him pretty hard.

"What was she doing coming to your flat?" asked Severus. He poured out a palm sized measurement of the bruise balm and began to rub it into Harry's cheek. Harry remembered a time when he wouldn't have even allowed his dad to touch him. He'd come a long way from that kid he'd once been, terrified of being touched.

"She wanted to tell me Vernon had killed himself," he said, sighing. "What a bitch."

"Harry, language!" rebuked Snape, but Harry could tell he agreed.

"It's true," said Harry.

Severus nodded. "Be that as it may, I don't like hearing my children cussing."

"I'm nineteen."

"You can start cussing when you're thirty," his father responded.

"I thought that was when I was allowed to date?" he laughed.

Severus nodded again. "Indeed."

His father's face grew serious once more. "The redness is starting to fade," he turned Harry's head with a hand around his chin towards the light. "Does it still hurt?"

"No, it feels fine."

Severus pulled a stool up to the table and sat beside his son. "She said your Uncle was dead?"

"Yeah, killed himself, apparently."

"Did she say how?"

Harry nodded. "Hung himself."

Severus' eyes widened. "I suppose he meant business then."

"Most people do when they hang themselves," agreed Harry. "I'm surprised he did it, actually. He never seemed the type."

"Prison life is much different than what he was used to," said Severus. "And I doubt the other prisoners relished his personality."

Harry glanced up at his father. "And if they knew he was a child abuser, that would have made it worse for him," he said softly. "Or so I've heard."

Severus patted Harry's knee. It was obvious he'd been thinking the same thing. "Sirius and I mentioned as much when he was first sent away."

Harry used the opening to change the subject. "Speaking of Sirius, I invited him and Remus over tonight for dinner. Will you come?"

"It depends on what you're having," said Snape with a raised brow.

"Yeah right. You don't care what we're having," he shoved his dad in the shoulder. "You and Sirius have been getting on for a while now, so you can't use that as an excuse. We're having Spaghetti, if you must know, and Draco and Ron are supposed to pick up some garlic bread on their way home from training."

"I suppose I could make an appearance."

Harry grinned. "You need to get out of the house more. You're already way too pale. People will start to talk."

"You mean they don't already think I'm a vampire?"

"Of course they already think that," said Harry. "And possibly a zombie. Though, I'm not sure where they get that idea."

"There's no such thing as zombies," groaned Snape. "Kids these days, they don't know how to open a book."

Harry stood up and started walking towards the door. "So, you'll come?"

Severus joined him. "Of course I will. What time?"

"Around six o'clock?" Harry glanced at his watch and noticed it was almost noon. He had plenty of time to prepare for dinner tonight. He glanced up and started fidgeting again. "I don't know if Aunt Marge would come by again, but when you, Sirius, and Remus are over tonight, do you think the three of you could put up some wards or charms or something? I don't care what. Just make it so she can't come in the flat again?"

A frown formed on his father's face. "Did she say something to make you believe she'd come back?"

Harry shook his head. "No, but I'd rather not have to deal with her if she decides to make a re-appearance. She was hard to get rid of."

"Why did she slap you?" asked Severus.

"Oh, she told me I drove Uncle Vernon to kill hims…"

"What!" If Aunt Marge were anywhere in the vicinity, Harry was fairly certain she'd be cursed within an inch of her life by his father. "She said that to you?" he asked, incredulous.

"Well, yeah, and she probably believes it, too. But, it didn't bother me, honestly! I even told her good riddance, which is when she slapped me," explained Harry, trying to keep his voice even and calm lest Severus lose his cool and try to track the woman down. "It's no big deal."

"It's a big deal to me. I'm sick to death of people hurting you," said Severus, his voice filled with venom.

"I'm fine," said Harry softly. He stepped up to his dad and wrapped his arms around his back. Having never grown any taller than five foot six, he was still able to tuck his head underneath Severus' chin and pretty much cuddle up to him. It was much easier to hug now than it had been a few years ago. He felt a kiss placed against the top of his head as Severus wrapped his arms around Harry in return.

"We'll put up the wards tonight. If she comes by again, she'll suddenly remember something very important and leave. She'll never figure out why she hasn't managed to make it to your flat again."

Harry's shoulders sagged, relieved. "Thanks, dad."

"It's not a problem, Harry."

* * *

"Where's the garlic?" asked Draco, his head hidden behind an open cabinet door. "I don't see it anywhere in here."

Harry stepped up behind him and opened the door all the way. "I just saw it," he muttered, pushing a few seasonings around until he found the right one. "Here," he said, tossing it into his brother's waiting hands. "Don't use too much, the bread is already pre-flavored."

"That's never enough for me," mentioned Draco as he maneuvered passed Harry, gently moving him by his shoulders. "And there's never enough room in the kitchen for more than one person."

"Your breath is always horrendous afterwards, you realize? You might want to take it easy on that garlic," Ron piped in from behind the counter. He was seated in a chair, waiting patiently. He knew better than to get in the way.

"I'll use a breath freshening charm then!"

"Fine, but you're going to sort out the television when it goes on the fritz again!" Ron shot back.

"Are we twelve, gentlemen? Still squabbling after all this time?" a deep voice spoke from behind them. Harry didn't even have to turn to know it was his father.

"Hey dad!" he said, still working on the spaghetti sauce. "The food will be ready in just a minute."

"We're grown men, dad," said Draco, coming out from the kitchen. Harry watched him walk over and give their father a hug. "And we don't squabble. We're just citing our differences."

"You consider nineteen and twenty year olds grown men?" asked a new voice. Harry, who had turned back to stirring the sauce, grinned as his godfather and Remus came in through the floo.

"Hey guys!" he yelled, abandoning the sauce for a moment to hug the newcomers. "I was beginning to wonder if you weren't coming!"

"We wouldn't miss a family night for the world, Harry." Sirius shoved Remus out of the way to give Harry a bear hug, lifting him clear off his feet.

Harry grinned at Remus over Sirius' shoulder. "Did you bring dessert?" he asked, knowing they would because they always did. Remus constantly said it was their contribution.

"Apple crumble," said Ron, eyeing the sweet Remus had brought into the kitchen. Harry could almost hear the red-head drooling from here.

"All right, come on in, make your own plates," he said, stepping out of the kitchen so there was more room. Everyone usually lined up, filled their plates, and rushed back to the table in the dining room. Harry tried to serve himself last, but no one would let him. He ended up back at the table before anyone else and waited patiently for the others before digging in.

The next few minutes were filled with silence as everyone seemed to be stuffing their faces. Finally, between bites, Remus glanced up at Harry. "Anything new going on with you boys?" he asked, using his fork to twirl the spaghetti.

Harry grimaced. He hadn't mentioned his visit from Aunt Marge, but figured he'd need to now. Especially if he was going to ask them to put up some wards before they left.

"Yes, actually. And I have a favor to ask of you three," he motioned with his head towards the three actual adults in the room.

His father glanced up at him, knowing what he was going to ask.

"My Aunt Marge paid me a visit today," he started, getting confused looks from most of them.

"She's my Uncle Vernon's sister," he explained softly. That got the reaction Harry expected.

Sirius dropped his fork on his plate with a loud clang. "What'd she want?" he asked, still looking confused if not irritated.

Harry quickly filled them in on what she'd told him about his Uncle being dead and blaming him for his suicide.

Sirius clenched his hands into fists. "That bitch!"

"Now I know where my son's picking up the bad language," muttered Severus.

Harry gave him a small grin. "It's not like I haven't heard it from tons of people," he whispered to his dad.

Severus shrugged. Harry knew Severus just liked to give Sirius hell.

"So, what's the favor?" asked Remus as he wiped his mouth with a napkin.

Harry picked up his own napkin and started folding it. "Dad said you three together would be able to put up some wards to keep her from coming back."

"Do you really think she would?" asked Draco.

"She was hard to get rid of the first time," mentioned Harry, unfolding and refolding his napkin again. "And if she comes back, I'd just rather not have to deal with her. You don't know what she's like," he added, meeting Draco's eyes.

"Is she like her brother?" asked Ron, also clenching his fists.

"They're very much alike, that's for sure," he shrugged his thin shoulders. "She was never nice to me and condoned whatever punishment the Dursley's thought was appropriate." He finally looked up from his napkin only to realize everyone had stopped eating and was staring at him. Harry could feel his face turning red and immediately fixated on his napkin again.

"Just believe me, you don't want to be alone here if she shows up," Harry finally said after a moment's silence. "I don't want her spewing her abuse at either of you," he eyed Draco and Ron.

"And we wouldn't want to listen to it," Draco agreed.

Sirius started eating again. "We'll do it after dinner," he said, eyeing Remus and Severus. The other two nodded their agreement.

Harry smiled gratefully at them, feeling better already. If only he'd known the worst was yet to come.

* * *

Later that evening, Harry stood in the bathroom brushing his teeth. The adults had left after putting up the wards. Draco was in his bedroom and Ron was sitting out on the couch watching some reality show on television.

Harry leaned over the sink and spit out the toothpaste in his mouth. When he stood back up he instantly noticed something standing behind him in the mirror. Dropping his toothbrush in the sink, he spun around in shock. No one was behind him. He glanced back at the mirror but whatever he'd seen was gone.

He walked out into the hallway and stuck his head through Draco's bedroom door. "Were you just in the bathroom?" he asked, thinking one of them had just stepped in for a second.

Draco glanced up front his book. "No, why?"

Harry shook his head. "Nothing," he muttered, slipping back out. He went into the living room next but didn't see Ron.

"Ron?" he called out.

"What?" Ron's voice came from behind him.

Harry jumped. "Where were you?"

"In the kitchen getting some left over garlic bread, why?"

"You didn't come into the bathroom a second ago, did you?"

Ron shook his head slowly. "No. Are you ok?"

Harry tried to brush off his anxiety. "It's nothing. I probably imagined it."

"Imagined what?" Draco had come out of his room and was standing behind Ron now.

Harry was starting to feel like an idiot. "I thought I saw someone in the bathroom with me a minute ago when I was brushing my teeth. It was like a reflection in the mirror behind me."

"It was probably just condensation from running the hot water or something," offered Ron.

Harry nodded in agreement. "Yeah, you're probably right."

Harry tried to shrug it off, he really did, but he couldn't help but feel like something was wrong.

* * *

_A/N: I've been in the mood for Halloween, if anyone is wondering where this story is coming from. Random: You know, I just went back and looked for the last time I wrote in this universe. I finished SIB3 in 2006! Holy crap! It's been forever! I hope this doesn't suck. :)_


	2. Chapter 2

_Somebody is screwing with me_, he thought with annoyance.

Harry stood in the kitchen, staring out at the dining room beyond the island where Ron had sat just the night before. He'd been pouring himself a cup of coffee into one of the only clean coffee mugs when he glanced out into the room where they normally had their meals. He almost hadn't noticed. But, one of the chairs was sitting dead center on the dining room table. That was highly odd. He could only imagine it was Draco or Ron who had done it, for it certainly hadn't been him.

He sighed. His flatmates were idiots.

It only took him a second to take the chair down and scoot it beneath the table.

He went back to fixing his coffee, pouring in milk and sugar. He needed a bit more caffeine today since he hadn't slept for shite last night. Every hour on the hour he'd heard one of the boys walking down the hallway outside his door. As soon as either of them woke up, he was going to give them an ear full. It occurred to him he should go stomp down the hallway by their doors…see how they liked it. Unfortunately, he was too damn nice and couldn't bring himself to be that mean. Plus, you know, he was an almost adult.

Plopping down on the couch, he picked up one of the outdated Quidditch magazines Ron left on the coffee table and started flipping through the pages. He'd read through almost an entire article on how to best optimize a broom while flying when he noticed it out of the corner of his eye – something moving. Honestly expecting to see Ron or Draco walking into the dining room, Harry fully turned his head and proceeded to drop his coffee mug in shock, dark, hot liquid splashing all over his lower legs and the floor. He hissed in pain.

The chair was back on the table.

He stood up so quickly he nearly lost his footing and would have fallen to the floor if he hadn't grabbed the back of the couch just in time. He stared at the chair. Seriously, this was starting to get creepy. Still thinking in the back of his mind it was probably his best friend or brother just messing with him, Harry slowly walked behind the couch and towards the hallway past the kitchen. He never took his eyes off the chair. When it came to a point where the wall obstructed his view of the dining room, Harry quickly sprinted down the short hallway and opened Ron's door.

Ron was snoring. Loudly and with gusto. It hadn't been him. Closing the door softly behind him, and glancing down the hallway towards the dining room while he was at it, he went to Draco's room next. Draco was lying on his stomach, one hand dangling off the side of the bed, and barely covered by his blanket. His brother was completely relaxed and undignified in his sleep, unlike when he was awake. It hadn't been him, either.

Possibly, someone outside of the flat was using magic. Harry was still trying to think logically. Slowly creeping back down the hallway, Harry peered around the corner of the kitchen. The chair was still on the table. It would be easy to figure out if magic had been used. Harry walked into the kitchen and turned on the first appliance he came to. The blender sprang to life, the blades whirling away merrily. Definitely not magic then, or nothing technological would be working.

Harry stared at the chair. There was only one more possible explanation.

"Our flat is effing haunted."

* * *

Around noon, Fred stepped through the fireplace.

Harry watched as his friend stopped dead not two feet into the flat. "What are you three doing?" he asked, brow raised in incredulous confusion. "Is that a Ouija board?" he started laughing. "Are you guys having a séance?"

Ron glared at his older brother as he walked to the dining room where they'd set up the board. "Don't make fun of us, Fred. This is serious!"

"It can't be that serious if you're using a Ouija board. Those things don't even work properly."

"How do you know that?" asked Harry, glancing down at the planchette his fingers were resting on.

Sitting down next to Harry, Fred turned sideways; one arm slung over the back of the chair, he faced him. "Well, for starters, this one looks pretty new. It was probably made in the 1980's. You need one of the originals for it to actually work."

"Where are we supposed to get one of those?" asked Harry. "That must be almost impossible. When were they originally made?"

"Like, back in the late 1800's, I think," answered Fred. "And it'll be easier than you think."

"How so?" asked Draco, looking like he found the whole idea ridiculous. Luckily, he'd gone along with it since Harry had asked him to. Harry was able to get Draco to do a lot of things just by asking. He wasn't sure why that was.

"Well, they have one at Grimmauld Place. We just have to go there and get it," explained Fred, standing up as if ready to leave. "And what's this all about any way? Who are you trying to contact?"

Harry shook his head. "That's just it, we don't know. I was hoping we'd find out what was going on with this thing," he pointed to the board on the dining room table. "And it's because the flat is haunted."

"Haunted?" asked Fred, still looking incredulous.

"We saw ghosts all the time at school!" said Harry, frowning. "Why is this so hard to believe?"

Fred draped his arm around Harry's shoulders, forcing Harry to look up to meet his gaze. "The school is really old. It has a history. This flat was just built a few years ago. As far as I know you're only the second tenant."

"What if someone died building it, wouldn't that cause them to haunt it?" asked Draco.

"Maybe, but I never heard of anyone dying here. Mum and Dad had it checked out before you moved in, Ron. There's nothing about this flat that would have attracted a ghost."

"Well, unless one of you is going to own up to putting the chair on the dining room table, or walking up and down the hallway in the middle of the night, I still say the flat is haunted," said Harry, arms crossed against his chest.

"Let's go get the real Ouija board and see what happens then. Maybe we'll get some answers." Fred motioned towards the fireplace.

Harry nodded, grabbed some floo powder off the mantle and disappeared into the green flames. Grimmauld Place was as grim as it always had been. All the curtains were pulled making it seem drearier than he remembered. It had been a few years since he'd last been here and he was eager to get the board and get out. Draco would feel the same way, he knew.

As soon as the others had joined him, he rounded on Fred. "Where is it?" He was in a hurry to leave.

"Upstairs," he glanced at Harry then at Draco before his eyes seemed to light up like a light bulb. "I'll go get it, you three stay here."

Fred dashed off up the stairs before anyone had a chance to say otherwise.

Ron sighed irritably. "What if we wanted to go with him?"

"I think he was trying to make sure Harry and I didn't go up to the third floor," mentioned Draco, glancing at Ron as if he didn't expect the red-head to get it.

Ron did. "Oh. That's right, you two haven't been here since the incident with your Uncle," he said slowly, glancing at both of them uncertainly. "We should have thought of that."

Harry shrugged. He wasn't all that concerned about it, honestly, but he was worried about Draco. It had been him his Uncle had attacked that night, even if he had thought it was Harry in his deranged mind.

Draco watched the stairs where Fred had disappeared. "It's fine." But he wouldn't meet Harry's eyes.

Soon after Fred came barging back down the steps. "I've got it. Let's go."

* * *

They set up the Ouija board on the dining room table. The one they'd been using lay discarded on the floor.

Harry walked out of the kitchen holding a cup of tea. "Anyone else want anything before we get started?" he asked, figuring he should play host.

"I'll take some tea," called Ron.

"You live here, get your own tea," Fred ordered, smacking Ron on the back of the head.

"He offered!" countered Ron, but he was already up and moving towards the kitchen. "Don't worry, mate, I can get it myself."

Harry shrugged. It was less work for him. He stood in the doorway watching as Ron poured himself his own cup when he felt the presence behind him. Harry started to turn, thinking one of the others wanted some tea as well, when he was shoved from behind. Hard. For the second time that day he dropped his cup, only this time it shattered to pieces on the hard linoleum floor. Jolting forward from the impact, he barely caught his balance. It took Ron reaching forward and grabbing his arm to keep him from impacting with the floor himself.

"What the hell?" he asked, glancing behind him. Only no one was standing there.

"Are you all right?" asked Ron, his hand still a steadying presence on his elbow.

"What happened?" Draco and Fred were standing on the other side of the island, twin looks of concern plastered on their faces.

"I was pushed," answered Harry, nodding towards the doorway. "And no one was behind me. But, I swear, I was pushed."

Draco frowned at the doorway as if it had done the pushing.

"You didn't trip?" asked Fred.

"No," Harry shook his head emphatically. "I was pushed."

Ron nodded in agreement. "Seriously you two, I saw it happen. I didn't see anyone behind him, but the way his body moved, it was as if someone shoved him really hard."

By this point Harry and Ron had moved out of the kitchen, not feeling safe there. The four of them stood in the living room contemplating the situation.

"I don't know if we should do the Ouija board. Whatever this ghost is, it seems a little violent today," Fred nodded towards Harry. "I don't want you getting hurt."

Ron looked at his best friend and nodded as well.

"It was just a shove, I'm fine," Harry tried to brush off their concern, but it was useless.

"A shove could turn into something worse next time, Harry. Let's use some caution here, all right? I'm not letting my brother get hurt," Draco added. "Maybe we should tell Dad."

Harry shook his head. "You guys are over-reacting."

"I don't think we are," said Fred slowly. "You know, most ghosts are happy to show themselves and just flat out talk to you. The fact that this one isn't makes me wary, seriously. Something's off."

Harry hadn't thought of it that way. Fred was right. All the ghosts at school had no qualms in just popping up right in front of them to have a conversation. They never hid from the students.

"Maybe this one is shy?" he asked, trying to come up with a valid reason the ghost wasn't showing itself.

"Or maybe it's malicious," Fred offered his opinion. "I agree with Draco. We should tell your dad."

"All right, let's tell Dad."

* * *

They stepped into Snape Manor just after nightfall. All the lights were off, a surefire sign no one was home.

"Dad?" he yelled out, just in case his father was conducting a truly bizarre experiment that required no lights. There was no answer.

"We'll just have to tell him tomorrow," said Harry, plopping down on one of the chairs in his father's study.

Ron perched on the arm of the chair. "Maybe we should stay here tonight?"

Harry just groaned. "I'm not afraid to sleep in the house, Ron."

Ron looked scandalized. "I'm not scared, either!"

"I didn't say you were!"

"It was just a suggestion," muttered Ron, looking around the room and not meeting Harry's eyes.

Harry grinned. "Don't worry about it," he figured Ron might be a little freaked by the whole ghost situation. It seemed like something Ron would freak out over, at least. "Fred, will you stay the night at the flat with us? Maybe we can have like a sleepover?"

"We're adults now, Harry. We don't have sleepovers," joked Fred. "But yes, I'll stay the night with you lot. We can all camp out in the living room."

"That would be what is called a 'sleepover'." Harry shot back at him, grinning.

"Shut up." Fred laughed and pushed Harry's shoulder gently.

Still grinning, Harry glanced out the window into the darkening gloom. "Let's go get Zane and bring him back with us. They say animals can sense a spirit's presence, right?"

Draco nodded. "That's true. Is he still at Jensen Winchester's for the summer?"

Harry had already started for the front door. "Yes, Deliverance couldn't keep him anymore. He annoyed her neighbors too much with his constant barking. At least here the only neighbor is Dad."

"Why didn't your dad keep him, then?" asked Fred, jogging to catch up with the other three. He wasn't sure where they were heading.

"Dad doesn't really like Zane."

They walked on in silence for a few minutes until Winchester Manor came into view. There was a light shining from a first story window. "It looks like he's home," said Harry.

The knocker on the front door was heavy and ancient looking, but Harry managed to bang it against the door without squashing his fingers. Something he'd done before, actually.

It wasn't long before the door swung open. Jensen stared out at them, clearly not having expected visitors. "I haven't seen you four in months!" he said happily, opening the door wider so they could all move inside. "What do I owe the pleasure?"

"We needed to borrow Zane, actually," started Harry.

"He's your dog, Harry, you don't ever have to ask to borrow him."

"I know, but it's polite," he returned. "Do you mind?"

Jensen ruffled Harry's eternally disheveled hair into an even greater mess. "Of course not, silly head. He's around here somewhere."

He looked around as if the dog would just show up. "Zane!" he called out. They instantly heard a ruckus as the dog bounded down the main staircase. If possible, Zane's eyes became larger as he looked upon Harry in the foyer. It was obvious he was happy to see him.

Even as Zane raced towards him, Harry knew he was going to end up on his ass. The dog was overly exuberant. As he expected, Zane jumped on his chest and sent him careening backwards. He threw out his hand to catch himself and bent his legs to take most of the impact. Flat on his back, he groaned as Zane slobbered all over his face. "You're so gross, Zane!" he said affectionately, rubbing the back of his ears as he was steadily licked to death.

Eventually, Jensen pried Zane off and Harry was able to stand back up. Zane still hovered at his side, anxiously. It was almost like he knew something was up.

"What are you kids up to?" asked Jensen as he walked them to the door.

"Harry thinks his flat is haunted," explained Fred. "That's why we need Zane."

"Ah, that's a good idea. It's too bad Jupiter wouldn't exactly fit into your flat. He's really good at that sort of thing."

Harry stared at him. "You believe in ghosts?"

Considering Jensen was a muggle and only found out magic existed a few years ago Harry was surprised. Most muggles seemed to think ghosts weren't real, much like they thought magic wasn't real.

Jensen gave Harry a contemplative look. "You could say that."

"If you kids need anything tonight, I want you to come back here, you got me. Some things you just don't mess around with." Jensen looked worried.

They finally made it to the door. "You going to let us in if we come knocking in the middle of the night?" joked Ron, laughing.

"Yes," answered Jensen without hesitation.

* * *

Harry put a bowl full of water down on the kitchen floor as Zane stood practically on top of his feet waiting impatiently for it. It was too late to feed him, so he left the food bowl on the counter. The flat was silent, though Draco, Ron and Fred were all sitting in the living room on the couch. He wondered at the quietness. Most of the time they tried to talk over each other and it was difficult to get a word in edgewise. They must be feeling the same anxiety he did. As if something bad was going to happen.

"I'm going to get ready for bed!" he called into the living room. Not waiting for a response and honestly not expecting one, he headed down the hallway towards his bedroom. Closing the door behind him, he stripped out of his jeans and t-shirt and dug through the top dresser drawer for his pajamas. He grabbed a pair of sleep pants and a plain gray t-shirt, throwing them both on the bed. He crossed to the bathroom and started brushing his teeth.

Glancing in the mirror every few seconds, Harry kept expecting to see something behind him in the mirror again, but nothing appeared. Wiping his mouth with a towel, he threw it in the sink and tried to open the door. It wouldn't budge. The bathroom door had never stuck before. He knelt down and looked at the knob. It wasn't locked. Feeling his heart rate start to increase, he pulled on the door knob again with more fervor. It still wouldn't open.

Harry tried not to let it get to him, but he was deeply terrified of doors that _would not open!_ It brought back bad memories of his childhood. And even bad memories of his father locking him in his bedroom. Severus hadn't been thinking clearly, in fact he'd just gotten horrible news about his cousin, which was the only thing that had gotten Harry through at the time. There was a good portion of a year when he asked his dad to take his door off its hinges just so he wouldn't feel that overwhelming fear.

He tried the knob again and when it didn't open he panicked.

"Guys!" he yelled, using his fist to pound against the door.

Still tugging on the doorknob, Harry pressed his ear against the solid wood, hoping to hear them coming. "Guys!" he yelled louder and finally heard voices on the other side of the door.

"Harry, you all right?" called Draco.

"The door won't open!" he felt the pull of someone on the other side yanking at the door knob. "Can you get it?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm so they wouldn't know just how freaked out he was.

There was silence on the other side as they worked to get it open. He even heard someone say '_alohomora'_ and had the passing thought the appliances wouldn't work when they got done with all this.

Even after using magic on the bloody door, it still wouldn't open. Harry felt his heart beat increasing painfully against his ribcage. "Just get me out of here!" he called, knowing his voice no longer sounded steady.

"Hang on Harry, we're working on it," Fred said soothingly. "Try to stay calm."

That was easy for him to say. He wasn't stuck by himself…potentially with a ghost, as Harry was fairly certain the door wasn't sticking on its own. Something was making it stay shut.

Harry spun around, expecting to see _something_ behind him. Maybe a mist forming or a black menacing shape, but there was nothing. He felt it though, a presence, like someone was watching him. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and his heart literally felt like it would pound clear out of his chest.

Turning back to the door, the feeling of something getting closer increased. He shivered, wishing he'd changed into his sleep clothes before he'd started brushing his teeth. Standing in only his boxers made this all the more uncomfortable. It made him feel vulnerable and he wasn't fond of that feeling.

He grabbed the knob, seeing that his friends were still furiously trying to open the door from the other side. He hoped he could help the process along by yanking from his side while they pushed on theirs. "It's not working!" he yelled, getting more and more anxious.

"We know, Harry," Fred's voice came through the door, still trying to sound soothing. They all knew how much he hated being locked in. "Jensen went to get his tools. We'll take the door off its hinges if we have to, all right?"

Harry nodded, before realizing no one could see that. "O-okay," he stuttered. He severely wanted out of this damn bathroom. "How long ago did he leave?"

"About five minutes ago. He should be back really soon," answered Ron.

"Okay," he pulled in a deep breath of air. "Just talk to me, all right?" The silence was driving him nuts. Hearing their voices helped to remind him he wasn't alone.

"Umm…" Harry couldn't help the small grin as he heard Ron trying to think of something to say through the door. "What do you want to talk about?" he finally asked.

Harry sighed. "I don't know! Anything! Talk about a green fluffy bunny for all I care, just talk!"

"All right, fine. There was a green fluffy bunny going round and round the garden!" yelled Ron, clearly not knowing what the hell to talk about to keep his friend calm.

"Are you insane?" asked a haughty voice. That was definitely Draco.

"What?" asked Ron indignantly. "I couldn't think of anything to say!"

"That's because you're an idiot," he shot back. Harry actually heard Ron sputtering through the door.

"I am not!" Ron yelled back.

Harry could tell Draco was just trying to keep a conversation going to keep Harry calm. It was easier than randomly talking about a green fluffy bunny.

"Right, because that was a well thought out come back. No one's heard that particular rejoinder in years," said Draco dryly.

The tone of the conversation, mostly sarcasm, let Harry know Draco was stressed and not actually purposefully antagonizing Ron. But, Ron didn't know that.

Harry was shocked when he felt the shudder of the door as someone was pushed against it. He rolled his eyes.

"Ron!" he yelled out. "You do realize what Draco's doing, right?" he waited patiently for a response.

A minute later…

"Oh!"

He heard Fred laughing distantly through the solid wood.

The talking had helped tremendously, but just as he'd started to feel calm, he felt a peculiar sensation start at the small of his back. It traveled up the base of his spine until he felt a pressure against the base of his neck, almost as if someone had grabbed him. He sucked in a mouthful of air, gasping. Distantly, he realized Zane was growling. Fear shot down his spine.

"Open the door!" he screamed, his voice now sounding so far from all right the others started yanking at the door handle again.

"Harry, you're fine. Just stay calm!" yelled Fred.

Harry shook his head. "Something's touching me!" he screamed. "Open the fucking door!"

It was moments like these when Harry couldn't control his magic. He could feel it building. "Move! Magic!" he yelled, hoping they'd get the idea.

It burst out of him almost painfully. The door shattered in its path, leaving absolutely nothing in its wake.

* * *

A/N: Sorry about the evil cliffhanger...sort of. :)

Did anyone go to the Fright Night Film Festival? Does anyone watch the Walking Dead? I got my picture taken with Norman Reedus (Daryl Dixon) this past weekend! And James Marsters (Spike off Buffy the Vampire Slayer) and Gareth David-Lloyd (Ianto off Torchwood). It was awesome. And I walked with Colin Ferguson (Eureka) down the street. We talked. IT WAS AWESOME!

I just had to share that with my fellow geeks.

Also, thanks to Nita, my totes awesome beta-reader of awesomness. You're awesome!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I had to light candles I only burn during Fall and Halloween as well as watching episodes of School Spirits on SyFy to get in the mood for this.

* * *

The backlash of Harry's magic sent him barreling backwards. He felt it painfully as the back of his knees hit the edge of the tub and he tumbled into it, cracking his head against the tiled wall. The world spun for a moment.

Groaning and in quite a bit of pain, Harry grabbed the shower curtain and used it as leverage to pull himself up.

"Guys?" he meant to shout but it came out more as a pathetic whine.

There was no immediate answer and he scrambled for the ruined doorway of the bathroom. He wasn't quite stable enough to walk and ended up using the sink and the wall as a steadying surface to get him there. Peering around the corner of the shattered remnants of the doorframe, Harry first saw Draco, motionless on the floor beside the bed.

As he made his way to his side, Draco moved slightly, his forehead scrunching up as if in pain.

"Draco?" he knelt down beside him and put a steadying hand on his shoulder, not that he was in any steady shape himself. "Are you all right?" he asked, glancing around the room to see if he could find the others.

"I'm perfect," he muttered sarcastically, and Harry knew then he was fine. Only Draco would be a smart ass in the middle of a crisis. Not that this was a crisis, but he wasn't sure what this was yet. He looked back into the bathroom, expecting to see something menacing standing there, but there was absolutely nothing.

Shaking off his momentary fear, he called out for his friends again.

Ron's head popped up on the other side of the bed, looking none the worse for the wear. "I'm good," he said, holding up a hand cautiously, proving he wasn't quite as fine as he'd made out. There was a long bloody gash on his forearm, seeping blood onto the floor beneath him. "Got a cut, though," he thought to say a second later as he obviously noticed it himself.

"Where is Fred?" Harry and Draco both rounded the bed to help Ron to his feet.

Ron glanced at the open door that led to the hallway. "He was standing there, looking to see if Jensen was coming back right before you blew the door off the bathroom."

Harry stepped around Ron and looked out into the hallway. Fred was face down on the carpet, not moving.

"Fred?" yelled Harry, kneeling down beside him. He grabbed Fred's shoulders and gently tried to turn him on his back. "Draco, help me."

Fred had put on quite a bit of muscle in the intervening years and it wasn't easy to move him. With Draco's help, Harry got him onto his back and peered at him closely. He ran his hands down his head, arms and chest, looking for any kind of wound. "Why is he unconscious?"

Ron was looking worriedly down at his big brother. "He probably hit his head?" he offered, looking stressed. "Did you feel a bump or anything? Is there blood?"

"I didn't feel anything and I don't see any blood," answered Harry.

"Fred!" Draco's sudden shout caused Harry to jump in alarm.

"Warn a guy when you plan on yelling," muttered Harry, hand against his heart. "This night is going to give me a heart attack."

"Sorry," Draco apologized, looking from Harry to Fred. "Maybe he's concussed?"

Harry jumped to his feet. "I've got an idea, I'll be right back!" he yelled, before disappearing down the hallway and into the living room. He heard both boys yelling at him to come back, but he ignored them. He stepped into the kitchen and threw open one of the cabinets.

Severus had a stock of emergency potions stored for exactly this kind of moment. His father worried about him and Draco relentlessly. It was a good thing the man was outrageously paranoid. Grabbing one of the potions, Harry raced back down to where he'd left his friends and brother.

"Here, this should help if he's got a concussion," he slid to a halt next to Draco, who reached out to keep him from tripping over Fred's prone body.

"What if he doesn't have a concussion?" asked Ron, looking concernedly down at his older brother. "Will it do any damage?"

"No, it won't do anything if he doesn't have one," answered Harry breathlessly as he forced Fred's mouth open and poured the potion down his throat.

A sudden pounding on the floorboards sent Harry to his feet, hand outstretched in front of them protectively. But it was only Jensen, finally returning with his tools.

"What happened?" he asked, looking stunned as he rushed down the hallway.

"Ugh," moaned a voice from the floor. "What hit me?"

Harry cringed. "My magic did, Fred. I'm so sorry!" he twisted his hands together nervously. "Are you ok?"

Fred sat up slowly and looked around as if dazed. "Yeah," he mumbled, "I'm fine."

That reminded Harry of Ron's response and his subsequent wounded arm. He reached out and grabbed his best friend, yanking the teen into his side. "You need bandages," he said, glancing at the bathroom anxiously. "Bandages are in the bathroom," he pointed out to no one in particular. "I need to go into the bathroom to get the bandages."

Fred was on his feet by that point and grabbed Harry's arm. "Maybe that's not a good idea," he said, looking steadily towards the ruined doorway. "Whatever grabbed you might still be in there."

Harry nodded shakily, and then shook his head, remembering how nothing had happened since he'd blasted his way out of the bathroom with his magic. "I actually think my magic made it go away, at least for the time being."

Jensen cleared his throat. "It won't stay gone for long," he said. "We should leave; maybe see if your father is home yet."

Harry stared at him. "How do you know it won't stay gone long?" he asked. "Do you know something we don't?"

Jensen sucked his lips into his mouth, a nervous gesture Harry had seen him make before. "Well, let's just say I know a thing or two about ghosts and leave it at that," he said, pressing his hand into the small of Harry's back to get him to move. "Now, let's go. We can come back later when we have a game plan."

Harry was about to question him more when he noticed something from the corner of his eye. He slowly turned his head until he was completely facing the doorway to the bedroom, which gave him a clear view of the destroyed bathroom doorway. A black…Harry didn't know what else to call it but a shadow…was forming there. And it was taking the shape of a body. Feeling his heart start to pound erratically in his chest, Harry grabbed the nearest person, which happened to be Draco, and pushed them down the hallway. "Time to go!" he said, knowing he sounded slightly hysterical.

"Harry?" asked Draco, glancing down at the hand on his arm, trying to pull his arm out of his hold, but Harry wasn't having it.

"Yeah, there's a shadow thingy forming in the bathroom," he yelled, turning to look behind them, and profoundly glad to see that the others were following him. And profoundly unhappy to see the shadow had moved to the hallway. "Oh my God," he gasped, causing the others to turn to see what he was seeing.

When Draco's eyes nearly bulged out of his head, Harry knew his brother had seen it too.

"What the…" Draco trailed off, but Harry suddenly found their positions reversed when Draco yanked his arm and pulled him down the hallway. "Go, go, go!" he yelled, and Harry wasn't about to disagree.

He ran, the others hot on their heels, racing towards the fireplace and their escape.

"Get the floo powder!" yelled Ron from somewhere behind them.

Harry leaped over the coffee table and haphazardly yanked the container from the mantel. The lid came off easily and he threw it somewhere on the floor.

"Snape Manor!" he nearly screamed it. He stepped into the green flames backwards, making sure the others came with him.

The next he knew he was standing in his father's library. Except for their heavy breathing, everything was calm and quiet.

Harry turned and saw his father walk into the room, looking perplexed. He could only imagine what they must look like, because Severus suddenly looked very worried. "Are you all right?" he asked, walking quickly to their sides and grabbing both Harry and Draco at once. "What's wrong?"

Draco glanced at him, as if letting him tell the story.

"Um, basically, the flat is haunted," said Harry, not knowing how else to explain it.

Severus looked unconvinced. "Haunted?" he said slowly. "What makes you think that?"

Harry crossed his arms against his chest. "Well, it started with objects moving, specifically our kitchen chairs," began Harry.

"And then the effing ghost locked Harry in the bathroom and made him nearly have a panic attack!" interrupted Ron, getting straight to what scared Harry the most.

Harry glared at his best friend. He'd been planning on sugar coating that bit.

"I wasn't panicking," he tried to defend himself. "I was calm," he paused. "Sort of."

"You blew the door off, Harry, I'd call that less than calm," Ron said, worried.

Harry felt a comforting hand on his back and looked behind him. It was Fred, who had noticed how annoyed he was at the man's younger brother. When he turned back around his father was watching him with concern. Everyone in the room knew he didn't handle being locked away very well. In fact, not well at all, as evidenced by the eviscerated door back at the flat.

"I'm fine," he muttered, answering his father's unasked question. He could tell just by the look on his face.

"Are you certain?"

"Yeah, dad, I'm fine now." Harry walked over to one of the tables in the library and sat down, feeling suddenly exhausted. "So, how are we going to get rid of it?"

Jensen pulled out a chair and sat down beside him. "Well, it depends on the ghost. We'll have to find out why it's suddenly haunting your flat, for starters. Have any of you bought anything new, maybe something with history? An antique?" he looked at the three flatmates curiously.

Harry shook his head. "No, I haven't," he answered, glancing at Ron and Draco. "Have you two?"

Both shook their heads in the negative.

"There've been no untimely deaths in the area? No one died while building the flat? Any redecorating?" he asked next.

"No, nothing like that," answered Harry. "What would any of that have to do with a haunting?"

Harry scooted his chair over as the others decided they wanted to join them at the table as well. Ron and Fred flanked him on both sides, all their knees banging together as they got comfortable. Draco and Severus took up the available spots on the other side of Jensen. Once they were all settled, Jensen continued explaining.

"Ghosts like to attach themselves to familiar surroundings, like the house they lived in or an item they were particularly fond of in life. Or if there had been a horrible accident or a murder in a house, that could also cause a ghost to linger there," Jensen shifted in his chair, bringing his hands up and intertwining his fingers. "They can be dangerous. If you go back, I recommend taking something made of iron. Iron can make a ghost dissipate, if only for a short time."

Harry noticed Severus was watching Jensen curiously. A minute later, he spoke.

"How did you get so knowledgeable regarding spirits?" asked Severus, his brow furrowed. "And what are you even doing with the boys?"

Jensen sighed, frowning. "They came over earlier when you weren't home, wanting to get Zane."

Harry's eyes widened in alarm. "We left Zane at the flat!" interrupted Harry, standing up so quickly he knocked his chair over. "We have to go get him!"

Severus pressed him back into his chair with a hand on his shoulder. "Let's not be too hasty. Zane is most likely fine, but we can't rush in there. We need a plan. Whatever is in your flat sounds dangerous, in my opinion. And I won't have my children hurt because they didn't think things through!" Snape said harshly.

Harry nodded, knowing his father was just concerned. "Well, what's the plan then?"

Everyone seemed to look at Jensen at once. At least, he seemed to know what the hell he was talking about. He could be talking out of his ass, but he seemed legitimate. Which led him back to what everyone was questioning. "How do you know so much about this?"

Jensen glanced towards the ceiling, as if looking for strength. "I know this will sound ridiculous, but I'm from a family of hunters."

"Hunters?" asked Severus.

"They hunt ghosts, the evil ones. It was through them that I learned all I know now. I've never actually hunted, but you couldn't live in my family and not know the basics on how to defend yourself," explained Jensen. "So, if we go back, we need salt, something made out of iron as a weapon, and a lighter."

Fred looked unconvinced. "Are you serious?"

"You all have magic and actually have ghosts in your school apparently, but this doesn't sound believable?" asked Jensen, brow raised incredulously.

Harry shrugged his shoulders noncommittally. "We believe you; it's just hard to take in. I'm sure it was the same for you when you learned magic existed."

Jensen nodded. "Yes, well, we were being chased by a bunch of crazy masked figures in black. And I actually saw you cast your spells, so it's a little different. Once you see my methods actually work, I'm sure you'll understand, too." Jensen started walking towards the door. "Severus, do you have anything we could use as weapons? They have to be made of iron."

It was obvious to Harry that his father didn't think any of this would work. But, he apparently was going to go along with it.

"All the fireplaces have utensils made of iron. The one here in the library has them, as a matter of fact."

Jensen changed directions. "Where?"

"Beyond the far set of shelves," answered Severus, pointing with his hand.

"Are you sure this will make a ghost dissipate?" asked Draco, picking up a fireplace poker. "I'll use this one."

Harry grabbed the iron shovel and swung it experimentally. "What is the lighter for?"

"If we can find whatever the ghost has attached itself to, we can light it on fire and the bond should be broken. The ghost will be destroyed," said Jensen, picking the fireplace broom. The handle was made of iron, even if the rest was just bristles.

Ron got the tongs and Severus just removed the hanger from the wall to use as his own weapon.

"What will you use?" asked Harry, noticing they had run out of usable fireplace weapons.

"I've got my gun."

Draco actually snorted. "How are you going to use a gun against a ghost?"

Jensen rolled his eyes. "I'm surprised you even know what a gun is, considering."

Frowning, Draco answered him. "Harry's told me about them."

Jensen nodded before pulling a gun out of the back of his trousers. "The rounds are filled with rock salt. Again, this will make the ghost dissipate."

"Do you always carry a firearm on your person, Mr. Winchester?" asked Severus. Harry glanced at his father cautiously. He did not sound pleased that the man was carrying a concealed weapon.

"Dad," started Harry, but Jensen put a hand on his shoulder, effectively shutting him up.

"I don't carry one normally, no, but when they explained what was going on, I figured I'd better bring one with me before I went over."

Severus still looked cross, but he didn't say more on the subject. Harry thought the look on his face meant the conversation wasn't over, though.

"What about the lighter?" asked Jensen.

Ron raised his hand like he was in class about to ask a question. Harry grinned at him. "What?"

"Well, do we need to have a lighter or can we just use our wands?"

Jensen developed that 'oh yeah' look on his face. "I didn't even think of that," he said. "Yes, that will work fine."

They made one more stop in the kitchen for the salt before the six of them made their way through the fireplace once more.

* * *

Harry stepped into his flat, cautiously looking around the living room and into the kitchen. Nothing seemed out of place and there was no creepy black shadow forming in the room, so he gave the all clear signal to the others. Harry had insisted he go first, even though his father wasn't too keen on letting him.

The others tumbled into the living room, some more steadily than others, and joined him in warily looking through the rooms.

"Didn't we leave the lights on when we left?" asked Fred, quietly.

Harry nodded, "Lumos!" he called, lighting up the room with his wand. "Maybe there was a power surge?"

"That only knocked out the power in your flat? I doubt it. Where does it normally form?" asked Jensen.

"Mostly in the dining room and my bedroom and bathroom, so far," said Harry, indicating with his hand where his bedroom was located. "And sometimes I think it moves up and down the hallway."

"Has it bothered either of you?" Jensen asked Draco and Ron.

Both boys shook their heads in the negative.

"Zane!" called Harry, wanting to check on his dog. Almost instantly, he heard the clattering of clawed paws making their way down the hallway. Zane seemed perfectly fine, causing Harry to sigh in relief.

"All right, we got what we came for, let's get out of here before it starts messing with us," said Ron, edging towards the fireplace.

Draco suddenly spun around in place, and took a halting step backwards. "Something just pulled my hair," he said, glancing back at Harry in alarm. "That hurt. So much for it not bothering me," he muttered.

Severus reached forward and wrapped his hand around the nape of Draco's neck, using the gesture to steer him into his side. Harry watched as Snape ran his fingers through the back of Draco's hair as if soothing away the pain. Harry doubted he was even aware he was doing it. His father was cautiously skimming the room with his eyes, looking less than pleased.

"Ronald is right, I think it is time we left," insisted Severus, glancing towards Harry as if to check his position, to make sure he was still where he left him. "Come here," he said suddenly, and Harry figured their father wanted them both where he could see them.

Harry started for them when suddenly all the air seemed to chill significantly. His breath misted white as he let out a frightened gasp.

There was a mounting pressure, as if the air was being sucked from the room. It was as if something was about to happen. It was obvious they all felt it. The six of them gathered in the middle of the room, safety in numbers, as it were. Like that would help them.

Harry gripped his iron shovel so tightly his palms hurt. They were backing towards the fireplace when he felt it. It was like a sudden, harsh cold weight was placed around his waist and then a sharp pain flared around his middle and around to the small of his back. He choked out a scream, he'd felt nothing like it before.

He wasn't sure how it happened, but suddenly they were racing through the fireplace. Someone was supporting his weight, considering whatever had hurt him also seemed to have sucked the energy out of him as well. The someone supporting him turned out to be Fred, as he noticed when he was gently lowered onto a chair in the library.

Harry had his hands wrapped around his middle, trying to keep the pain at bay.

"What happened?" asked Jensen, trying and not succeeding in pulling up Harry's shirt.

"No!" growled Harry, and slapped down Jensen's prying hands, not wanting anyone to touch it. The wound, or whatever it was, still burned.

"Are you injured?" Severus shoved Jensen out of the way, but didn't make any move to force Harry's shirt up. No one forced Harry to do anything when he didn't want to. It was tantamount to assaulting him all over again in Severus' eyes, Harry knew.

"I don't know, but it felt like something burned me," he said, his voice sounded distressed even to his own ears. He didn't want to mention it, mainly because he was afraid of what it meant, but when he first felt the weight wrap around his middle, he'd smelled something. It seemed stupid, even now, but it was a smell he'd never forget because he associated it with the worst memories of his childhood. He associated it with his uncle. His uncle used stagnant cologne that had made him gag anytime he'd gotten close. The man practically bathed in it. It was a scent he'd never forget. And he'd smelled it in his flat.

He was beginning to think he knew who was haunting him. He just didn't want to say it out loud. Saying it out loud would mean it was real, that his uncle was still taunting him, even in death. Harry felt like he would cry, thinking of the horrifying things the man used to do to him.

He'd been so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn't realize the others had been trying to get his attention for some time. He only realized it when he felt hands on his face. And apparently they'd been there for a while.

Severus looked deeply concerned. "Harry?"

Harry shook his head to get his thoughts back in the present. "Sorry, just thinking."

"Must be some heavy thinking," said Ron, looking just as concerned as the rest of them.

Harry shrugged, not knowing what to say, or if he should tell them at all. What if he'd imagined the scent of the cologne? Was it even possible for Vernon Dursley to be haunting his flat since he hadn't died there? He knew nothing he had at the flat belonged to the Dursley's, so it couldn't be a spirit attached to an object. He just didn't understand it.

Not willing to say anything until he was certain, for he knew this would open a whole can of worms for all of them, he decided to keep it under tabs until he knew without a doubt it was his uncle. To change the subject, he gently started pulling up his shirt. The burning had started to fade and he thought he'd be able to stand someone touching it now.

The second he started to move the pain in his stomach and chest started to flare up. "Ow," he gasped, not complaining when Severus took his shirt and pulled it off the rest of the way for him.

"What the hell?" Ron looked shocked. "How did that even happen?"

Harry saw the wide-eyed looks on all their faces and finally looked down in trepidation. Right beneath his ribs and trailing to disappear on his back was three jagged, inflamed, and bleeding scratches.

* * *

A/N: For whatever reason I had a hard time writing this chapter. I didn't really feel like writing, but forced it out. So, hopefully it doesn't blow. I didn't want to keep my faithful readers waiting!

Also, thanks again to my beta-reader Nita!


	4. Chapter 4

Everyone camped out at Snape Manor that night, not wanting to be by themselves, unsure if the ghost could follow them to their own homes. They felt safer together.

Harry, Draco and Ron all stayed in Harry's old bedroom. Harry opened the cupboard in the hallway, getting out some extra blankets for the others. He handed one to Ron and threw the other one at Draco. "Here, you can sleep with these."

Ron looked around the room, seeming to notice the single queen sized bed. "We're going to have to conjure another bed," he mentioned.

Harry nodded, taking his wand out of his back pocket. There was only room for a twin size bed and he conjured it beside his own. "There, someone is going to have to share, sorry," he said, indicating the small space and only two beds. Harry didn't mind at all, honestly, he wanted everyone as close as possible, considering what he thought about the ghost. But, the others might be annoyed to share.

Neither seemed to care, however, as Draco tossed his blanket on the bed, apparently intending to share with Harry.

Harry rushed through his nighttime routine, changed into his night clothes and brushed his teeth. He never shut the door the whole way, envisioning the door getting stuck like it had back at his flat. Ron had gone to use the bathroom down the hall. Draco was taking his turn in the bathroom attached to their room while Harry slathered some healing lotion on the scratches he'd received. They looked angry and sore. Harry still couldn't fathom how they'd gotten there.

Twisting the cap back on the healing lotion, Harry placed it on the nightstand beside his bed. He glanced around the room, every darkened corner seemed sinister and he pulled his blanket up tighter around his shoulders.

Draco finally stepped out of the bathroom and pulled back the covers on his side of the bed. He noticed the lotion sitting on the nightstand and met Harry's eyes. "Are you in pain?" he asked, climbing in and pulling the covers up.

"Well, not anymore, with the healing lotion. It feels much better," he answered, glancing towards the doorway as Ron walked in.

"I don't know if I can sleep," mentioned Ron as he climbed into bed. "I'm still too fired up after everything that happened at home."

Harry nodded. "Me either, I don't think I could sleep at all."

"What if we can't get rid of it?" asked Draco.

Harry didn't know what they were going to do. He wasn't sure why the spirit was there, or how it got there, with nothing to attach to. Unless, it was somehow attached to his own body somehow, Harry didn't know. And it scared him.

* * *

The next morning, Harry ran into Jensen in the kitchen making breakfast. Jensen always liked to cook himself, and the house elf stood in the corner seething at not being allowed to help. "Cella, you can make breakfast for the rest of the house when they wake up," Jensen finally told her, and she relented, disappearing with a pop.

Harry sat at the counter, watching Jensen cook. He picked up a paper napkin and proceeded to tear it into strips. "Jensen, can I ask you something?"

Jensen gave Harry a fleeting look before returning his gaze to the pancakes he was making. "Sure, kid, what is it?"

Harry tore a few more strips of the napkin before finally asking the question he was concerned about. "Could a ghost get attached to a person somehow? I'm worried, since the ghost seems to only show itself when I'm around."

Jensen removed the last pancake from the skillet and placed it on a plate. He turned to give his full attention to Harry. "Well, that's not really how it works, Harry. There has to be an object, they can't connect to flesh and blood like that."

Harry sighed. "Then how is this thing connected to me? Why all of the sudden?"

"I honestly don't know, Harry, but we'll figure it out," Jensen reassured, placing a calming hand on his shoulder from across the counter.

Feeling frustrated that he didn't know the answers to his problem, Harry got up and headed towards the door.

"Don't you want some pancakes, Harry?"

Truly, Harry wasn't hungry at all. He hadn't felt hungry since this whole thing started, but he sat back down at the counter and watched while Jensen piled a few pancakes on his plate. Reaching for the syrup, he poured liberally. He was cutting into them with his fork when Jensen joined him.

"You have a theory on who it might be, don't you, Harry?"

Harry dropped his fork, the clatter it made startling him as much as the question.

"What?"

"Last night, the look on your face, I've seen it before. It's the same look you had when you were telling Jupiter about your Uncle, and I overheard." Jensen put down his fork and laced his fingers together, propping his chin on them. "Is that what you think, kid?"

Harry could feel the blood draining from his face.

"I'll take that as a yes," said Jensen. "What makes you think it is him?"

Harry shook his head. "It's stupid, and I'm probably imagining it," said Harry, desperately not wanting Jensen to confirm what he thought. That he might be right about his Uncle haunting him.

"Whatever it is, it isn't stupid. Just tell me, Harry."

Harry shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "There was a smell," he shrugged his shoulders, it seemed so ridiculous. "That's all, but it was the scent of his cologne. I'll never forget it. It was repulsive."

But Jensen didn't look like it was ridiculous, if anything, he looked more concerned. "That is actually very important, Harry. In a lot of cases, people who are being haunted smell things that help us confirm who the spirit is. Now that we know who it is, we can work on finding what he's attached himself to."

* * *

Harry wasn't looking forward to telling his father who the ghost was or Draco for that matter. It would be hard on them all. Just when he'd thought he was done with his Uncle for good, he comes crashing back into his life as a freaking ghost.

He saw Ron first.

"You're up early," his friend said he walked down the staircase.

Harry gave a small smile. "Yeah, couldn't sleep."

"Are you all right?" asked Ron. They both stepped into Severus' study where his father was sitting at his desk.

"I've been better," said Harry, going with the truth. "Where's Draco and Fred?" he asked, wanting to tell them all at the same time.

"Draco should be down in a second, he was getting dressed when I left the room. I'm not sure where Fred is, I think he stayed in one of the room by himself last night."

Harry nodded. "He's a braver man than I," he went to sit on the edge of his father's desk. "Hey, Dad," he greeted his father, picking up a random book and flipped through the pages.

"Harry," his father gave him a look that clearly said he wasn't pleased Harry was sitting on the desk. "There are chairs for a reason," he mentioned a second later.

"Yeah, but I'm too lazy to move right now," he answered.

Severus just raised his brow in minor annoyance.

Fred and Draco both walked in. "Here they are," said Draco, they'd apparently been looking for them.

"What are you guys doing?" asked Fred, sidling up to Harry and leaning against the desk next to him.

"Nothing," said Harry, feeling the anxiety rise. He met Jensen's eyes, asking for help without saying anything.

Jensen nodded. "Harry and I think we know who the ghost is," he said, jumping right in where Harry daren't tread.

"Oh?" asked Severus, sitting up in his seat. "Who?"

Harry kept his head down prompting Jensen to answer the question. "We think it's his Uncle," he said, and Harry felt an arm instantly wrap around his shoulders.

Harry peered up from beneath his fringe, meeting his father's eyes. His dad looked angry, which was unsurprising.

"How do we get rid of the bastard, then?" asked Fred. "It's not as if Harry has anything that belongs to him!"

Suddenly, Harry got it. He knew what had happened. "Aunt Marge!" he exclaimed, jumping down from the desk and dislodging Fred's arm in the process. "She left something at the flat! I thought I saw something as she was leaving. Something silver or something shiny at least, because I saw the gleam as she stood in the hallway."

"Where exactly? Could she have stashed it somewhere in the hallway?" asked Jensen, beginning to look excited.

Harry nodded. "The couch, maybe? It's right there at the end of the hallway, otherwise there's nothing else to hide it with. She leaned against the couch and that's when I saw it, but didn't think much of it at the time."

"That makes sense to me, I suppose. Can we go check it out now?" asked Draco, looking at their father for confirmation.

"Yes, let's get this over with," said Severus, standing from his seat. He walked around to stand beside Harry, placing his own arm around his shoulders. "Would you rather stay here?" he asked, now looking more concerned for both of his son's safety. "Draco? Neither of you need to go."

Harry didn't necessarily want to go, but felt he should go. In fact, if he could, he wanted to be the one to dispatch his Uncle for good. "I'm going," he finally answered. He saw Draco nod his consent as well.

It was obvious Severus wished they'd both made different decisions, but Harry couldn't worry about that right now. "Let's go."

* * *

The flat was just as dark as it had been the last time they'd come. Harry lit up his wand with a whispered 'lumos' and used the light to look around the living room.

"Whoa," said Ron, and Harry agreed with him. The living room looked like a tornado had gone through it. The couch was flipped over onto its back; the oak coffee table was broken and strewn about the room. Everything had been destroyed.

"This is a very powerful spirit," said Jensen. "It takes a lot of power to do this kind of damage," he grabbed the iron fireplace broom from where he'd dropped it the night before. "Keep your weapons close and at the ready. You never know when you'll need to use them."

Harry hadn't left his iron shovel yesterday and had it already. He moved behind the flipped couch and started to push it back into an upright position. It moved easily and he removed the cushions that weren't already off. "I don't see anything here," he said, looking up to see Draco standing by the couch cushions that had been tossed off during the ghost's destruction. "Draco, check under those," he instructed, still looking around the bottom of the couch. He crouched down and shoved his wand underneath, but saw nothing but a few dirty socks and an old bowl of cereal. "Ron," he muttered, getting back up.

"There's nothing under here."

"Nothing under the cushions, either," said Draco. "If we knew what it was, we could accio the damn thing."

They'd searched the entire living room. "Could it be somewhere else?" Harry couldn't imagine where his Aunt Marge could have hidden it.

"We'll just have to check everywhere."

"We should split up," said Jensen. "It'll speed up the process."

"Absolutely not!" insisted Severus. "I hardly see how that is a good idea."

Jensen sighed. "You can go with your kids if you want, but splitting up will get things done quicker. And the sooner we find it and destroy it, the sooner your kids are out of danger."

Severus glared. "Fine. Draco, Harry, you're with me."

"Let's take the kitchen, then." Harry entered the dining area while Draco went into the actual kitchen. Severus just stood where he could keep an eye on both of them.

"Does anyone else find it odd that nothing has happened yet?" asked Ron, wandering down the hallway that led to the bedrooms.

"Shut up Ron, you'll jinx us," Fred rebuked.

Harry grinned, having thought the same thing. And then, as if on cue, Harry heard a scratching noise coming from his left. He turned towards the dining room table and saw one of the chairs inching towards him. Heart suddenly in his throat, Harry turned to warn the others, but didn't get the chance. The once slowly moving chair suddenly lunged at him, knocking him to the floor with a clatter.

The breath knocked out of him, Harry could only lie there. He heard a commotion somewhere behind him and felt someone grab him beneath the arms, hauling him into the kitchen.

"Harry, are you all right?" asked Severus. Harry finally noticed they were all three hunkered down behind the island in the kitchen, as if that would protect them.

"Yeah, just stunned there for a minute," he answered, glancing around the edge of the island. "Where are the others?"

Severus joined him in glancing around the corner. "Presumably they're in the bedrooms. I'm certain they would have heard the attack, but perhaps they were harmed as well."

"Should we go look?" asked Harry, noticing out of the corner of his eye Draco's appearance. He was ashen.

"Draco?"

Draco met his gaze. "What?"

"You look like hell," Harry offered bluntly. "Did something happen?"

Draco just shrugged. "Not sure, honestly, but I feel really horrible right now. I don't know why."

"Define horrible," insisted their father.

Draco shifted where he sat on the floor, looking steadily more and more uncomfortable. "It's hard to explain, but I guess there's a literal sick feeling, I'm really nauseous, and an impending sensation of doom. Something bad is going to happen."

"Well, that can't be good," said Harry, watching as Severus grasped Draco by the nape of the neck, trying to comfort him. Harry wondered if Severus realized how often he did that.

"We should check on the others," he said. "See if they had any luck finding whatever it is my Aunt left here. Or if they're hurt," he said as an afterthought.

Severus helped Draco off the floor and the three cautiously crept into the hallway. Nothing impeded them. The hallway was eerily dark and Harry was plain creeped out by it. He wondered at the quietness. He didn't even hear sounds of movement from the others.

"Guys?" he called out cautiously.

He'd been slowly walking by Draco's open doorway and a hand reached out and grabbed his arm, while another wrapped around his mouth from behind. He let out what he would later deny was a whimper as he was pulled against someone's chest.

"Hush, Harry, it's just me. We have to be quiet," Fred explained, removing his hand from Harry's mouth. Severus and Draco appeared in the doorway then, both looking worried.

'It's alright, just Fred," he pointed with his thumb behind his shoulder where Fred still stood.

Severus glared behind Harry's shoulder.

"Where are the others?" asked Draco, looking absolutely strained now.

"Jensen took Harry's bedroom and Ron took his own. We split up the bedrooms. I noticed if I was loud at all, a wind would pick up. There isn't a window open, so it has to be the ghost," Fred was looking at Draco with alarm. "You do not look well."

"It's being _here_," exclaimed Draco. "It's making it worse."

Draco was beginning to gasp for breath.

"All right, we need to go," Harry walked determinedly to the door. Not waiting for the others, he jogged down the hall to his bedroom. Jensen was looking under his bed when he came in. "We're leaving, now."

Jensen nodded, not asking any questions. Harry wondered what he must look like to get instant cooperation. He grabbed Ron next and met the others at the head of the hallway. "Let's get out of here."

They barely made it to the fireplace when all hell broke loose. The couch they had righted when they first came in suddenly flipped back over, nearly taking out Ron and Fred. "Ow, damn it!" yelled Ron, trying to jump towards the fireplace with one foot as the other had gotten smashed by the couch.

Harry barely made it into the living room before being lifted off his feet and violently thrown against the wall. He collapsed bonelessly to the floor, pain radiating out of his back in waves.

"Harry!" bellowed Severus, lunging towards him. Harry grimaced at the sound and then his eyes widened as he saw Draco being knocked off his feet. It was as if someone grabbed him by the ankles and started dragging him down the hallway. Already weakened, Draco could hardly grab onto anything to stop himself.

"Dad, get Draco!"

Severus looked up and noticed what was happening to his other son. But Ron had already grasped Draco's wrists and was holding on for dear life, trying to keep the blonde in the room with them. "Let go of him, you bastard!" he yelled, gritting his teeth. "You can't have him."

Severus joined them and suddenly Draco's legs went lax, as if whatever had held him abruptly let go. Draco scrambled towards them, looking utterly terrified.

Harry tried to get up, but every time he moved, his back seized with horrible pain. He grunted in pain. That hurt really badly. Fred was at his side in the next instant. "Are you hurt?"

"Yeah," he grimaced, fighting the pain. "My back didn't like the impact with the wall," he said, semi jokingly. "Can you help me up?"

Fred didn't wait to see if Harry could stand, he just picked him up, cradling him in his arms.

"Seriously?" asked Harry, embarrassed despite the situation.

"Yes, seriously," Fred apparently didn't care that Harry was turning red. "Let's go, guys!"

The air was crackling again, like the atmosphere before a storm. "Come on, he's building back up his energy. We need to go while we still can!" yelled Jensen, running towards the fireplace.

Ron flung in the floo powder and activated it. The green flames flared to life and Harry watched while Jensen and Ron disappeared within them. Severus and Draco went next. Fred, still carrying Harry, was about to enter the flames themselves when they suddenly died.

Harry looked up at Fred in alarm. "Get more floo powder!" he yelled.

Fred grabbed the iron container on the mantle and scooped out a large handful. Too much was better than none. He threw it in and called out Snape Manor, but nothing happened. It was as if it was a normal fireplace. "He's b-blocked it," stuttered Harry, suddenly more terrified than ever. "So we can't get out." He clutched tighter to Fred's shirt. "What are we going to do?"

Harry could feel Fred's heart beating erratically against his hand, which rested on Fred's chest. The redhead was just as terrified.

They were trapped here and Harry could hardly stand let alone walk.

"Let's try the front door," said Harry, grasping at straws. It was a long shot, but they could only try.

Surprisingly, they made it the door without anything trying to stop them. Harry kept waiting for a menacing figure of his Uncle to appear, but so far it hadn't happened. He wasn't sure what he would do if it did.

Fred rotated the doorknob. It moved, but the door wouldn't open. Harry felt his heart stutter in his chest. He really couldn't take being locked in. "Is it locked?" he asked, knowing it wasn't, but wanting to make sure.

Fred tried the lock, too, but it still wouldn't budge.

Harry suppressed a frightened moan. It wouldn't do to freak out, not yet at least. If he lost control of his magic again, he might hurt Fred.

"Put me down," he ordered.

Fred raised his brows. "Can you even walk?"

"There's one way to find out," he answered, wiggling his legs a bit to be set on the floor. Fred finally complied and Harry tested out his legs. Of course, they worked fine, but when he tried to hold his weight on his own, it was as if the bottom vertebrae in his back had twisted out of alignment, and he couldn't. He rested his forehead against Fred's chest. "I can't, at least, not without a serious amount of pain."

He saw the door over Fred's shoulder and remembered standing in this exact spot when Aunt Marge had visited. She'd shoved him against the door as she was leaving. Harry lifted his head. "My jumper," he exclaimed, looking up into Fred's eyes. "Can you help me to my bedroom?"

Fred looked confused, but didn't question it. He picked Harry up again and hurried down the hall.

"I said help, not carry," muttered Harry.

"This is quicker," explained Fred.

Harry sighed, but wasn't about to put up a fight about it. They made it to his bedroom and Fred placed him back on his feet. "Where is your jumper?"

Harry glanced around, honestly not sure where he'd thrown it. He kept his room pretty neat, compliments of a screwed up childhood, but he'd rebelled a bit once he'd gotten his own place. Check the basket," he said, motioning towards a brown wicker basket in the corner beside the bathroom door. He'd let the laundry pile up, so the basket was practically overflowing. "It's probably here."

"What color?"

"Green," answered Harry, dumping the thing on its side, getting a twinge up his back for his troubles, and began digging through it.

Harry saw it out of the corner of his eye. He turned and there was a man forming in the doorway of his bathroom. It was still dark, but the shadow was somehow darker. "Fred," he nudged his friend in the side, getting his attention.

When he heard the gasp, he knew Fred saw it too.

"Is that him?"

Harry nodded.

"What do we do?"

"Keep searching!" whispered Harry, "We have to find it!"

Harry was scared out of his mind. The form kept solidifying, becoming less and less transparent. It didn't look exactly like his Uncle, but the form was the same, if a bit thinner. And the eyes were rounded and black. Like he had no soul. Not that he'd had one to begin with. Harry shuddered. He didn't want it to come near him. He especially didn't want it to touch him.

"What is it doing?" asked Fred, still trying to find the jumper.

"I don't know," answered Harry, watching the figure just staring at them. If anything, that was more frightening. He kept expecting it to do something, but all it would do is stare at them with those black, empty eyes.

Then it lunged. Harry screamed as it passed through him. The breath rushed out of him, leaving him gasping. Quickly turning onto his side, which he regretted as pain lanced up his spine, Harry gasped as he looked for the figure. He couldn't see it anywhere.

"I don't see it, do you?" he asked Fred.

Fred shook his head. "Stay close, Harry."

Harry nodded, having no intention of straying away.

He started to help Fred look again, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He glanced down and even though he could feel it, there was nothing there. "Fred," he whispered, angling to get closer to the redhead, but the hand on his shoulder slid up the side of his neck and around his throat, almost like a caress. Harry shuddered in horror.

He didn't know how to fight something you couldn't see. The hand tightened and suddenly he was being pulled backwards. Fred grabbed his legs, trying to hold on, but he was yanked free. He slid under the bed and was pulled out on the other side.

"Hang on Harry, I'll find it!"

He couldn't yell, and he knew the best thing for Fred to do was keep looking for the jumper, but Harry was terrified. The pressure on his throat increased and he could feel his upper body being lifted into the air by his neck. Despite his lack of air, he could still feel the excruciating pain radiating from his back. He just wanted it to stop. The black, void eyes were suddenly staring into his. He would have gasped, if he'd had the air to do it. The pressure increased and he knew he would die soon if Fred didn't find whatever was holding his Uncle to the flat. Tears escaped his eyes and slid down his cheeks.

A blinding orange light suddenly filled the room, emanating from somewhere behind him. The figure on top of him shuddered, looking absolutely furious. It screamed in his face, eyes going blood red, something Harry will never forget for as long as he lived. It screamed until he was gone, vanished from existence. Harry collapsed back onto the floor, gasping in long desperate breaths for air. His back was throbbing.

Fred erupted from the bedroom at the same time the fireplace sprung to life.

Still trying to catch his breath, Harry stayed on his side, honestly not caring what was going on around him. He could literally hear the room filling with people. Fred was by his side, asking him if he was okay. He could hear his father's voice, as well as Draco's. And surprisingly, Dumbledore's, apparently they'd gone for backup when they couldn't get back through the fireplace, either.

Someone touched his back, trying to manipulate his hips, and Harry was not down with that. He reached back and grabbed the hands. "Do not do that!" he yelled, in quite a bit of pain.

"Sorry, Harry, sorry!" said Fred. "Are you all right?"

Harry looked at him like he was an idiot.

"Okay, stupid question, I guess." Fred moved over so his father could take his place.

"This is going to hurt for just a second, but then the pain in your back will stop, do you understand?" he asked Harry.

Harry nodded, trusting his father to know what he was doing.

"I'm going to touch your back, Harry, all right?"

Harry sighed. "Make it quick," he pleaded, just wanting the pain to stop.

"I will." Severus disappeared behind him and Draco reached forward and took his hands.

"Brace yourself, Harry," his father instructed, and Harry tensed when he felt the hand very low on his back. It felt slimy, so he assumed he was applying healing potion or something, and then Severus spoke a word and pain erupted in his lower back. He groaned, gripping Draco's hands so tightly they would probably bruise.

Then, blissfully, there was no pain. He sighed in relief and released his death grip on Draco's hands. "Sorry for that," he said to his older brother, feeling badly. "I didn't mean to grip so hard."

Draco shrugged, obviously not concerned.

He was finally able to stand up on his own, and Harry rather enjoyed it. He saw Fred standing behind them and walked over. "You found it, then?" he asked, grinning.

Fred matched his grin, looking relieved. "Yes, I found it."

"And what was it?" asked Dumbledore, surprising Harry with his presence once more.

"It was a pocket watch. I opened it, wanting to make sure it was the right object, and saw a picture of your Aunt and your cousin in it, Harry. It took a bit more than fire to destroy it, but we got the job done."

"Thank you," he said, truly grateful.

* * *

Harry sat in the overstuffed arm chair in Severus' study, watching as his brother read a book across from him. He was obviously not very engrossed, as he kept glancing up every few seconds.

"Is it a boring book?" Harry finally asked after another glance up.

Draco sighed, setting the book on the table beside him. "Harry, can I talk to you about something?"

Harry nodded. "Of course, what is it?"

Draco shifted in his own seat, looking anxious. "This is stupid," he suddenly said, and started to stand up.

"Wait, Draco!" said Harry, standing as well. "You look stressed. If you need to talk to me, I'm more than happy to listen."

Draco didn't move, which Harry took as a good sign. Finally, he motioned for Harry to re-take his seat.

"When we were at the flat, and I told you and Dad I was feeling poorly… well, I kind of lied."

Harry remained silent, waiting for Draco to get to his point. He had a feeling it wasn't a good one, either.

"It wasn't an impending feeling of doom, although I definitely did feel nauseous. No, I…f-felt the same as I had that night, when he was attacking me in that bedroom on the third floor. It felt like he was molesting me all over again."

Harry was shocked. "What?" he asked, aghast. Hearing his brother say that, well, it pissed him off. Why did he have to make him experience that again? Why?

"You heard me," said Draco, seemingly impatient. "Did he make you feel it, too?"

Harry shook his head, slowly. "No, he didn't," he said, wondering why he hadn't. Although, at the time, he figured his Uncle's ghost was more interested in slowly strangling him to death. "Are you all right?" he asked.

Draco just sat there. "I don't know."

Harry leaned forward in his chair. "Why didn't you ever go to counseling with me?"

Draco shook his head. "I never needed it. I didn't even have it nearly as badly as you did. I mean, the little shite never raped me like he did you."

Harry cringed, always hating hearing the word.

"Sorry, Harry."

"It's not a problem. But, I think you should consider going, especially after having relived it. You've never even really discussed it, not even with us," he said, meaning Severus or himself.

"There's nothing to discuss," insisted Draco, standing suddenly and pacing the room.

"Clearly there is," said Harry, trying to keep his voice gentle.

Draco ran his fingers through his blonde hair. "I don't know."

"I'll come with you, if you like?" Harry hadn't gone to his first session until his father had come with him. He hadn't come inside the room, but he'd waited for him, which to Harry made all the difference.

Draco was silent for a long while. Then, "Maybe, if you come with me."

"Okay."

* * *

For a few weeks, Harry didn't want to stay at his flat. Neither did Ron or Draco for that matter. But, finally, the flat was back to its former glory, spotless, and Harry felt it was time. Draco had been seeing his therapist for about three weeks and was handling things much better than before. Otherwise, Harry didn't think he'd have moved back in with them. And he was very grateful he did.

"Are Sirius and Remus coming over for family night tonight?" asked Ron as he gulped a large drink from his coffee mug. They'd been in the house for two days now and everything seemed back to normal. As such, they wanted to get their normal routine back as well. Including their family night.

"Yes, I firecalled yesterday and they both said they'd come," said Harry.

"All right, do we need to do any shopping?" Ron was now devouring two pieces of bacon at the same time.

"No, I did that yesterday, too."

Ron nodded. Draco was giving him a look that clearly said he was disgusted by his eating habits.

"What are we having?"

"Is your mind only ever on food?" asked Draco, smirking at the redhead.

"Shut up, Draco." Ron was grinning right back at him.

Harry just rolled his eyes.

Later that evening, Sirius and Remus entered the flat via fireplace. They were the last to arrive and Harry was just putting the finishing touches on the meatloaf. The mashed potatoes were already on the table. Ron thought he'd snuck a bite, but Harry had seen him and smacked his hand like an errant toddler. Sometimes, Harry thought he was one.

Sirius immediately went to Harry and swept him up in a hug. They'd been away while the whole ghost fiasco was going down, making him feel awful he hadn't been around to help.

"How are you doing, kid?"

"Just fine, Sirius. I'm glad you guys could make it!" he placed the meatloaf on the table and declared it was time for dinner.

Harry watched as everyone greeted the newcomers, and grinned largely as Remus hugged Draco, startling the blond at the affection. They all took their seats and spent most of the evening talking about everything that had been going on.

"I'm sorry we couldn't be here to help you out, Harry, Draco. That must have been difficult," Remus expressed his remorse. Harry knew they both still felt horrible, but he wasn't worried about it.

"Again, it's no problem, guys. We took care of it, well, Fred took care of it, thankfully, and it's finished."

"That's good, Harry," said Remus.

Sirius wasn't as willing to let it drop. "Did you ever find out why your Aunt left the pocket watch?"

Harry just shrugged. "I expect just to make my life miserable. I don't know if she knew he'd tried to kill me. But, I doubt she'd be too torn up about it if he'd succeeded."

"What a bloody bitch!" exclaimed Sirius.

Harry could only agree.

* * *

The End

I have no clue where else I could take this story, so I'm just going to end it here. I'm just glad I finally got another story in this series out. But, the muse hit me and I had to write it. It probably wasn't what anyone was expecting, or possibly wanting to read, but I hope it was good enough.

I'm not sure what I'll write next. Does anyone watch Sherlock? On BBC? It's awesome. I've thought of writing something in that fandom. I've even got an idea. Exciting!

Thanks again for taking the time to read. I hope you enjoyed. Please let me know what you thought?

Thanks to my beta-reader Nita for being awesome!


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